


crisis

by moongirls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Drabble Collection, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Nonlinear Narrative, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Swearing, but it's good bc they're bizarrely similar so they get it anyway, i mean they weren't enemies just like some severe mutual disdain, local idiots can't talk about feelings, or sooner, since this is definitely not going to be in any cohesive order just whenever i feel like writing it, will come later ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moongirls/pseuds/moongirls
Summary: He’s always been one of a set of two, half of a dynamic duo, the George of Fred-and-George fame. When your set of two’s been split up, your duo is just an uno, and somehow that just doesn’t have the same appeal.





	1. meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her ridiculous enthusiasm is annoying, and her total lack of caring is confusing.

_You’re supposed to have your crisis during freshman year,_ George reflects. He supposes he’s just doing what he always does, though — breaking the rules.

Of course, rule-breaking is really only fun with a partner in crime, and he hasn’t got one anymore. Because, apparently Fred is no longer interested in being his brother-and-best-friend; now, he’d rather just be George’s brother.

He’s always been one of a set of two, half of a dynamic duo, the George of Fred-and-George fame. When your set of two’s been split up, your duo is just an uno, and somehow that just doesn’t have the same appeal.

He does understand what Fred wants, though, contrary to popular (Ron and Percy’s) belief. They were never given a chance to be an individual — rather, together they comprised one individual. And now that Fred’s got a boyfriend and a job and friends of his own, he wants to take that chance, to _be_ an uno.

It’s just not exactly what George wants. But he’s always been a little too dependent on Fred, he’ll admit. It’ll be good for him to be away from his twin awhile, to make friends without the influence of his more sociable brother. Maybe this year, he’ll even orchestrate some solo pranks — big ones. Or he’ll focus on class (he does need to graduate).

Yes, Fred’s abandonment really is a blessing in disguise, and George is really taking a very mature line on the whole thing. So this is hardly a crisis at all, right?

* * *

 

“This is a crisis!” a girl wails. George can’t see her or her breakdown, but with his luck she’ll be in his dorm. Move-in day is ridiculous, but at least he’s not a freshman anymore. The sun beats down on his back as he lugs his suitcase up the pathway, and he wonders how this can possibly be the same Boston that nearly gave him pneumonia last winter.

He pushes his way through the entry hall, nodding to a few familiar faces and dodging conversation with Oliver Wood, who’s no doubt equipped with another diagram for preseason practice. As he makes his way to the basement — of course he’s in the fucking basement— he can’t help but roll his eyes at the cutesy door decorations he passes. No doubt this year’s RA will be obsessed with _floor bonding_ and _forming a community_ , as if anyone actually wants to be best friends with their floormates.

He stops outside room 008, which has a bright blue piece of construction paper on the door that reads _George!_ The lowercase G is shaped like an umbrella with glittery raindrops around it, and he almost wants to laugh.

He shoves his key into the lock, and pushes the door open with his shoulder. Just as it begins to swing shut behind him, a “Hello!” rings out from the hall. Spinning around, he finds himself face to face with a _tiny_ girl. For a moment, he assumes she’s a lost freshman, but then he takes in the nametag on her shirt, which says _RA (y/n)_  in the same handwriting on his door decoration.

“You must be George! I’ll be living across from you in room 007,” she says confidently. “How are you doing with moving in?”

George opens his mouth, then closes it. _Shit_ , he thinks. _Shit, shit, shit._ He’s beginning to realize that, without Fred, he’s really not quite as magnetic as he’d thought he was. In fact, he’s noticing that without exception, Fred was always the one to first introduce them, and that there was a reason for that.

RA (y/n)'s still looking at him, though, waiting for an answer. Her face is set into a brilliant, beaming smile that he’s one hundred percent sure is fake, and used primarily for campus tours and student government.

“I’m doing good, yeah,” he replies, wincing at how weak his voice sounds. God, why does he sound so fucking timid? “Just, uh, going to bring in my sheets and stuff next.”

“Cool!” she replies, no doubt thankful to be done with the conversation. “Let me know if you need any help!”

With that, she turns away and starts walking briskly in the direction of a student who seems to be on the wrong floor, judging by the confusion on his face.

As George tugs the door shut behind him, he hears a yell from RA (y/n). “Don’t forget we have a floor meeting in an hour!”

* * *

 The floor meeting is a joke. Out of their floor of thirty undergrads, seven show up, and one of the seven only seems to care about whether he has to observe quiet hours.

The guy (Cormac, George thinks his name is) seems like a nice enough dude though, so George walks over to where he’s interrogating some poor sophomore on his workout routine.

Maybe-Cormac breaks off his conversation to send George a small smirk, to which George replies, “Hey” because he’s apparently incapable of sounding interesting, which _must_ be why Fred was the social twin.

Maybe-Cormac, thankfully, responds with a matching “Hey” and adds on, “So what’s the deal with the RA?”

“What?” George ever so eloquently replies.

“Dude, she’s like psychotic. Did you see the fucking door decs?”

George snorts, because _this_ he can do. He can talk shit about people like _RA (y/n)_  with their manufactured smiles and perfect manners and ten-year plans. Hell, he grew up taking the piss out of Percy, who, he reflects, would probably have been a great RA.

“Yeah, mine had fucking glitter on it,” he says, rolling his eyes.

Maybe-Cormac seems suitably impressed, groaning, “ _Bro_ , that’s —”

Whatever his door dec is or isn’t George never learns, because in bursts RA (y/n) herself, her megawatt grin firmly in place.

That smile, however, melts right off her face when she sees the meager group of kids, mostly sophomores or transfer students, sitting on the stained lounge couches.

“Where is everyone?” she demands, looking confused and not a little offended. “Wait, never mind, I’ll just get started and we can see if they show up.”

Visibly straightening her spine, she launches into her introductory spiel, beginning with “Hi everyone, I’m (y/n) and I’m your RA this year” as if that was a surprise to anyone. What is surprising, though, is what comes next.

“No offense, but I literally don’t care what you guys do in your rooms or about quiet hours or any of that shit. Also, you’re all at least nineteen, so you should know enough to not fuck up the bathrooms. Basically, I’m here to do damage control with your big messes, but y’all should, like, deal with your own little messes. We good?”

George is sure his eyes are wide and his mouth may be a little bit open, because he did _not_ expect RA (y/n) to swear or roll her eyes or tell them to deal with their own problems. He thinks she notices this, because she sends him a glare that seems to scream _I’m not your fucking high school stereotype_ , and God, that’s actually kind of hot, isn’t it?

* * *

So, yeah, he doesn’t have his brother, and, yeah, his one sort-of-friend so far looks like a failed frat bro, and, yeah, he might be a little attracted to his sort-of cute RA. So maybe, just maybe, this _is_ , in fact, a crisis.


	2. walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So she's not a _total_ bitch. Whatever. It's not like they're friends or anything.

RA (y/n) is a fucking liar. Of course, she’s never lied to George. She’s been nothing but brutally honest to him, whether she’s telling him that “a two-year-old would be able to take better care of the bathroom” or that she “has neither the authority nor the desire to fix the broken coffee machine in the floor kitchen because it makes shit coffee anyway.”

No, she’s not lying to him — she’s lying to everyone else.

Because George knows — he _knows_ — that (y/n) has nothing in common with the perfect put-together senior facade that she likes to present. He, and everyone else on their floor, can see (y/n) for exactly what she really is — a bitch. And it makes him furious.

It shouldn’t, of course. It’s none of his business how (y/n) likes to show off to the rest of campus. But it’s not fair that all of her professors and classmates and fucking student groups get a “calm, polite, capable, and dedicated young woman,” while he gets a goddamn bitchy, angry, controlling, and downright rude shrew of a human being.

* * *

He’s just heading out of his room when he sees her. He almost instinctively turns back into his room, but he knows that his uptight roommate will give him a _look_ if he does that.

So he continues into the hallway, ready for RA (y/n) to give him another one of her constant snappish comments. Well, that _is_ a bit of exaggeration. (y/n) doesn’t usually hand out her insults unless she’s been provoked, like when Cormac tried to hit on her and she told him that he looked like “an overweight mutant bull.” Or when Marcus, the roommate from hell, had asked her where he could buy her a new personality, and she’d told him to pick one up for himself while he was at it.

But she’s still constantly irritable, and the littlest thing can set her off, so George makes sure to stay on the other side of the hall from her, and absolutely silent.

And his absolute silence is why he can hear the tiniest of sniffles from RA (y/n), which of course throws him for a loop, because RA (y/n) is a lot of things — obnoxious, tyrannical, and downright _mean_ — but a crier is not one of them.

And he doesn’t mean to (because hell, he’s has his own fair share of crying in hallways, and he knows the last thing you want is for some stranger to try and _comfort_ you with a pitying look), but some of his shock and vague sympathy must show on his face, because RA (y/n) notices _something_ about his face and throws her most flinty, devastating glare his way — the one that can usually shut him up before he’s even opened his mouth to crack a joke.

But he’s not cracking a joke, and her scowl is less intimidating when it’s accompanied by puffy eyes and a slightly red nose.

So because George has no sense of self-preservation, he does the stupidest thing possible, and asks her, “Are you okay?”

And because RA (y/n) is closed-off and angry, even with tears filling her eyes, she does exactly what he expects, and snaps, “Do I _look_ okay?”

And that could be that, he could just leave and let her deal with her own fucking problems, and it would serve her right for being such a massive bitch, but again, George has no sense of self-preservation, and he’s a little too empathetic for his own good, so he says, “Do you want to walk to the dining hall with me?”

Very much to his surprise, she sniffles again, swallows the apparent lump in her throat, and says, “Fine.”

* * *

It’s awkward as they walk, and there’s no signs of it getting any less awkward until RA (y/n) opens her mouth, closes it, and opens it again, saying, “I know I’m kind of a bitch.”

Which is — what the hell is he supposed to say to that? _Yes, you are a bitch. A raging one, in fact. You should, like, work on that._ No, he’s not going to say that, not when she's literally just been crying, so he just looks up from his scuffed Converse and actually makes eye contact with her for the first time.

She’s looking at him, and her gaze is hard, and pretty intimidating, but not necessarily hostile, which is unusual, to say the least. But her current expression (and the fact that she’s stopped crying) does seem to invite some sort of blunt honesty, so George eloquently responds, “Yeah, uh, sometimes.”

The corner of her mouth quirks, and it softens her iron expression for a moment.

“No, I think it’s really most of the time,” she says, and George supposes that it’s good that she’s somewhat self-aware (not that it really makes up for her other character flaws). “I just — I’m really stressed right now,” she continues, and now she’s looking away from him, staring straight ahead at the horizon. “I have a lot on my plate, and I wasn’t expecting senior year to be this hard, but, uh, it kind of is.”

Well, again, what the fuck is he supposed to say to that? If Fred was here, he’d make a joke to cut the tension, and George _could_ do that, he _could_ make a dick joke, the joke is _right_ there, but he’s not a total asshole and he can tell that this is about as open as RA (y/n) — who he can probably just start calling (y/n), honestly — ever gets.

So he also stares straight ahead at the horizon, and says, “That’s okay, I guess,” because, really, what other reaction is there to this half-assed apology? And she frowns slightly at that, which bothers him, because he’s really _not_ trying to be rude or anything — he just doesn’t know how to talk to her when she’s not yelling at him.

But despite the frown, she doesn’t snap at him, or say anything, actually. She just keeps staring straight ahead, determinedly not looking at his face. So that’s that. Nothing else to say, then.

And it’s awkward again, and the walk to the dining hall is _stupidly_ long, because whoever the hell designed this campus did _not_ think about the convenience of the on-campus residents, and George really doesn’t want to make this entire walk in silence, so he copies (y/n)'s lead, and looks away from her, and says, “I have a twin.”

He notes in the corner of his eye that she looks surprised, and now she’s looking at him, with a searching expression on her face, like she’s confused about why he’s talking to her about his _twin_ of all things.

“We used to be really close,” he continues, wondering when his and Fred’s relationship turned into a _used to be_. “Like, we did everything together, applied to schools together, came here together, we even roomed together sophomore year.”

“What happened?” (y/n) asks, her voice soft — and that forces him to look away from the horizon, because that’s not a tone that he ever expected her to even be capable of using. But she is, and her whole face is less tightly controlled than it usually is, and she’s still looking at him, not pityingly like his family does sometimes, but curiously. Like she’s genuinely interested in understanding why he’s so fucking — whatever. Sad, or lonely, or isolated. Take your pick. He supposes that she must have learned this expression in RA training. Either that, or (y/n)'s honestly a kind person when she’s not ridiculously stressed, and he’s not ready to contemplate that possibility.

“He just got sick of being a pair,” George says, his voice harsh. He’s not angry at her, and he thinks she knows that, judging by the way her face twists in what seems to be a commiserating way. “He has a boyfriend now, and, like, a job, and he wanted to be his own person. And that’s cool, I guess, but, like, I wasn’t expecting it. I thought we’d have a couple more years together.”

“That sucks,” (y/n) says, her voice unusually raw.

“Yeah,” George replies. There’s nothing else left to say, but the walk’s not quite so awkward anymore.

* * *

The dining hall is crowded. Nearly all the tables are full of people eating with their friends, or sitting alone with their laptops open. George doesn’t ask (y/n) if she wants to sit with him, and she doesn’t ask him either. They just sort of do it. She puts her hoodie down on the table, and he leaves his ratty-looking wallet next to it, and that’s that.

When he returns, she’s sitting there already, with a bowl of Lucky Charms and a plate of cheese fries. He looks at the plate of pasta and the side salad in his hand, and then back to her ridiculous meal, and laughs. He can’t help it, but it does feel good to laugh, even if she’s going to be pissed at him for it.

To his surprise, she joins in. Her laugh is loud, but not enough to draw attention in the noisy dining hall. Just loud enough to be surprising, because he didn’t expect her laugh to sound like that, more of a guffaw than a giggle. And that just proves it _again_ , he should really stop forming expectations about her, because she seems to love to defy them.

When their laughter quiets down, they continue eating without talking. But now it’s really not awkward, somehow, and it’s actually kind of nice to not have to make conversation when there’s nothing to say. Just sit and eat and look around (not at each other, just _around_ ).

And, well, (y/n) is actually rather pretty, when she’s not frowning or snapping or crying. But not like, very pretty. Just — kind of nerd pretty. Like, he’d probably flirt with her at a party, if he had Fred and Lee as his wingmen, but he definitely wouldn’t talk to her otherwise. Unless she talked to him first. But he knows her just well enough to be aware that she _wouldn’t_ talk to him first, wouldn’t give him the time of day usually. And _fuck_ , now he’s rambling, and contemplating how pretty his _mean_ RA ( _she’s usually really mean, George, remember that, she hates everyone_ ) is as she shovels shitty dining hall cheese fries into her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i thought this was a oneshot but screw that lmao!! have a vaguely pointless study of two people in crisis (get it??) commiserating via bad communication!!! also why do i always write bitchy overachieving readers, why do i project like this


	3. sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s a total harpy, and a control freak, and pretty egotistical, and honestly kind of pretentious, but that’s all beside the point. The point is that she's fucked up, but so is George, because he’s a total dick, and if he’s a dick and she’s a bitch, then they kind of get along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this is hella short but i haven't written _anything_ in forever so i needed to stretch my writing muscles out with something simple (also yeah marcus's boyfriend is oliver wood) (also yeah cormac is chasing hermione but he doesn't know how to do it because he's dumb but i still love him)

George laughs, throwing his head back and letting his mouth stretch wide open. For all Cormac’s flaws as a human being — and there are many — George can’t deny that he’s fun. Cormac is loud, abrasive, and sometimes (often) a pig, but he makes every moment an adventure, even if they’re only running to the corner store to get shitty off-brand ramen noodles. And honestly? That brand of magnetic good times is really all George wants.

They push their way through the doors and jog down the stairs to the basement, nearly tripping over each other.

As they head back to Cormac’s room to stash the noodles, George glances at (y/n)’s door. It’s nearly always closed, with her door dec reading _(y/n) is OUT right now,_ even when her music is blaring from inside, though today, she really does seem to be out.

George follows Cormac into the room he shares with Marcus, dumping the ramen containers onto his bed. Cormac flops down onto Marcus’s bed with a groan almost as loud as the mattress springs’ protests.

“Bro, I’m so fucking tired,” he says, dramatically throwing his arm over his face. George ignores him for a moment as he hunts for his phone before turning to face Cormac.

“Why? It’s not like you’ve done anything all day,” George says, smirking at Cormac

“Dude!” Cormac sits up sharply, suddenly looking vaguely offended. “I literally went to the gym this morning, _and_ I went to the library too!”

“Okay, okay,” George says, holding up his hands in surrender. Of course, he knows that Cormac only went to the library because he was hoping to run into some girl (Harper? Harmony? Helen?) and that he left half an hour later when she never showed.

George glances down at his phone to check his texts, as though there’ll be anything there. Nowadays, the only people who text him are Ron, Percy, and sometimes Marcus (usually telling him that his boyfriend is coming over, which usually means that George needs to stay out because they’ll be having angry sex, as though they don’t see each other _every fucking day_ in soccer practice).

To his surprise, there’s three texts from a number saved only as _bitch_.   

> [received 5:14 PM]
> 
> _hey can i die pls_
> 
> _binns is literally talking about german rulers in this lecture on MEDIEVAL SPANISH LITERATURE_
> 
> _and hes STILL calling me parvati bc obviously we look so similar!!_

George grins, glancing at Cormac (who’s returned to his prone position with his feet on Marcus’s pillow) before replying. 

> [sent 5:22 PM]
> 
> _wait are you not parvati???_

 

> [received 5:22 PM]
> 
> _i literally hate you_

  

> [sent 5:22 PM]
> 
> _nah you love me_
> 
> _also pay attention in class_
> 
> _you need to keep up your 4.1 gpa!!!_

  

> [received 5:23 PM]
> 
> _I DONT NEED TO PAY ATTENTION TO THIS ITS NOT ON THE SYLLABUS_
> 
> _and i actually have a 4.2 dumbass_
> 
> _whats your gpa again??_

  

> [sent 5:23 PM]
> 
> _uhh my gpa is a 700 actually_
> 
> _guess im smarter than than miss premed genius!!_

“Dude, who’re you texting?” Cormac groans, his face still buried in Marcus’s mattress. “I can feel your, like, happy aura across the whole room.”

“Huh?” George responds eloquently.

“Is it that girl on the soccer team?” Cormac says, now looking at George with interest. “The one with the really nice —”

“No!” George interrupts — he _really_ doesn’t want to hear the end of that sentence.

“Then which girl is it?” Cormac says, frustrated. “Is it Cho? Is it Susan Bones? Fuck, is it _Hermione?_ Bro, you _know_ I called dibs!”

“Dude, stop!” George says, now laughing out loud. “I literally don’t know any of those girls.”

“Is it a dude, then?” Cormac says, grinning. “There’s nothing wrong, man. I got your back no matter what.”

“What? No, it’s not a guy,” George says, surprised. “If you really care so much, i’s just (y/n).”

“The RA?” Cormac asks, clearly confused. “Bro, she’s totally hot, but she’s, like, a bitch.”

George really does laugh at that, because _of course_ (y/n) is a bitch. She’s a total harpy, and a control freak, and pretty egotistical, and honestly kind of pretentious, but that’s all beside the point. The point is that (y/n) is fucked up, but so is George, because he’s a total _dick_ , and if he’s a dick and she’s a bitch, then they kind of get along.

“Yeah, she is,” George says to Cormac, still snorting a little. “She’s, like, the worst.”


End file.
